


Futile the winds to a heart in port

by DonttellNightwing



Series: Lost in the Fall [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale remembers Crowley, Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Lost Pre-Fall Memories (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley Was an Archangel Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Male Crowley (Good Omens), Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Multi, Nonbinary Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), because, brief scene in Camelot, but doesn't remember him, but not a lot, it isn't explicitly mentioned, much - Freeform, why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonttellNightwing/pseuds/DonttellNightwing
Summary: After the fall, Crowley was clueless. He was the only demon who didn't remember Heaven.Aziraphale remembers Raphael, but thinks he's dead. A fall from so high would kill someone, wouldn't it?I'd recommend reading the first story, it'll probably make more sense.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Agnes Nutter
Series: Lost in the Fall [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893250
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	Futile the winds to a heart in port

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from 'Wild nights! Wild nights!' by Emily Dickinson  
> I didn't know which category to put this in, so I chose multi

Aziraphale saw him fall. He saw as he was consumed by fire and his wings were ripped off, the broken limbs fading to dust as he went down.

No one knew except for him and the remaining archangels. Everyone else thought he went back to the stars.

Rumors began to spread as to why he left. None of them were true.

Aziraphale didn’t go back to the stars. He stayed. He looked for him.

He knew, logically, that Raphael was dead; it was obvious. Who could fall so far and survive?

Still, a nagging feeling sprouted up every few minutes, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was still alive.

It was only a bit after that humans were created. Then Michael came to him.

“Aziraphale” they nodded at him, then handed him the flaming sword, “You have been given a new assignment.”

“Oh?” He felt longing looking at the weapon, and quickly put it away. He couldn’t bear looking at it for long.

“Yes, don’t worry. It is a simple task.” They gave him a smile that was probably supposed to be comforting. “You will guard the eastern gate and watch over the humans.”  
\-----  
Crawly didn’t know why he chose Crawly as his name. It was better than nothing, but the word felt strange on his tongue. 

He also didn’t know why he went to the angel in the first place. At that time, he didn’t even know the angel had given the sword away and could have been destroyed. 

He edged closer to the angel, making sure he was fully under the wing. This was the first rain; it could easily have been blessed. He had heard rumors about holy water harming demons, and he didn’t want to be the guinea pig. 

As the rain tempered down, the angel went to fill the cracked wall, while he went to see the garden. They left each other with little fanfare, nodding as they went their separate ways.

The angel was strangely familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The garden was a quiet place, and the familiarity felt nice. Though, he also felt a great longing. Why did he miss this place? He couldn’t remember it, so what was there to long for? 

He lay on some rocks that were placed around a tree. The tree. The sun seemed to be placed perfectly so that the rocks were nice and warm, and the sunlight glinted against his black scales. 

He stayed like that for a while, enjoying his time away from Hell. They didn’t have sunlight or lush trees. All they had was hellfire and dirty walls.

He heard footsteps approaching and quickly zipped into the bushes. He stayed there and watched as an angel sat where he had been sitting seconds before. She leaned against the tree and sighed, picking a few flowers, and looping them into the beginnings of a crown. More footsteps approached and he darted away. He was lucky once; he won’t be again.

As he left, though, he couldn’t help but feel like he knew her.  
\-----  
The rain poured harder and harder as he tried to carry the little children out of the water. He heard screams as people begged to be let on the boat and felt the area his heart would be ache. He brought the ones he could save to a high mountaintop and went back to the others.

On his final fly over, he found a man and woman screaming and scratching at the boat as the tried to keep their newborn and toddler out of the water. Both children were sobbing profusely.

He swooped down, his dark wings seeming to block the sun for a moment before taking the two children out of their hands.

“Thank you,” the mother said, tears in her eyes, as he flew away.

Saving them was the easy part. Now he had to get them in the arc.

He quieted them down as the water grew closer to the tip of the mountain, telling them stories about the stars that he didn’t know. Their feet were growing wetter when the last child went silent.

“You mustn’t make a sound,” the children nodded, and he took them to the arc a few at a time. The youngest first, who he could carry more of, and steadily getting older. The eldest was eleven. 

“Thank you” she whispered as he took off, and for a moment, he thought he heard someone else.

It took days for the storm to subside, and the group of children were nearly caught a few times, if not for Crawly’s quick thinking, they would have been. Everyday he went to the food storage and stole only what was necessary, then brought it back for the children to share. Whatever was leftover he kept fresh with a couple minor miracles. 

On the final night, when the rain was slowing for the first time in ages, Crawly heard steps coming toward them. Instinctively he began to curl around the sleeping children and posed for attack. He wouldn’t let them throw the kids overboard. Not when they were so close, he could feel it.

The door opened and three men entered, most likely Noah’s sons. Their eyes scanned around the room and seemed to miss the huge snake wrapped around a bunch of terrified kids. After a few tense minutes they found nothing and moved on, leaving the door ajar.

He slipped to the door and nudged it closed with his nose. Then he went back to the little group and settled down, calming the fussing children, and lulling them to sleep, listening to the rain patter on the deck a few floors above and the waves crashing into the ship’s hull.  
\-----  
It was sad, really. As the library burned, he couldn’t help but think about how upset Aziraphale would be. All that knowledge lost to future generations.

There was no doubt, he would be praised when Hell found out, even if he had nothing to do with it.

He would have prevented it if he could have.

But he couldn’t.

Still, he could save a couple scrolls. For selfish reasons, of course.  
\-----  
The night was cold, and she could feel the sharp chill as she walked. She could have made a fire, but she was trying to avoid attention. She looked around the town and felt the road through her sandals.

She shouldn’t be here. She knew this. If the angels, who were around, no doubt, found her, Crowley was toast. 

She should be far away from here, but when she saw the star, she couldn’t help but be curious. It was what got her to fall, at least she assumes. The memories still eluded her.

The inns were all occupied, and she couldn’t help but curse the foolish king. The census was stupid and terribly organized, leaving people roaming the streets and begging for rooms as the sun set.

As the markets closed, she reached into a market stall and stole a loaf of bread. She ripped a chunk out of it and ate it, then gave the rest to a woman begging a bit further along the road. She didn’t need it, and it tasted like dirt anyway. Though, most things tasted like dirt, including all food.

She continued walking around, catching sight of a stable she could spend the night in if she decided to rest. For a moment, the world paused, then she heard screaming and begging.

She followed the screams to a young lady holding a wall and clutching her very pregnant stomach. A man, probably the husband, was begging the innkeeper for a room for her. The man denied and slammed the door in his face. 

She thought she was supposed to be the evil one.

The little stable came back to her mind, and she approached the young lady, a warm smile, though she kept her gaze downwards to not scare her.

“My husband has a stable, we can allow you to stay the night.” She said, the lie flowing from her lips like it was true. The lady looked like she would cry.

“Yes, thank you,”

She offered the lady a gentle smile and lead her and her husband to the stable.

When they entered there were a couple animals and a manger pushed to the side. She moved some hay to make a bed for the young lady to lay on. Her screams echoed off the walls and it would have taken a miracle for the owner to not realize they were there. Luckily, the owner had gone to another city for the census, so they didn’t have to worry.

The ladies hand stayed on her stomach as she took deep breaths. She seemed to be in labor.

Deciding quickly, Crowley began helping her through the birth. She’d done it before, though those times it had been Nephilim for the sheer reason they weren’t supposed to exist.

Still, she assisted the lady, calming her before she began pushing.

The birth was surprisingly easy, and both of them lived through it. 

Crowley quickly cleaned the baby and placed him in his mother’s arms.

“How can we repay you?” The man asked, but Crowley shook his head.

“Please, how can we thank you?” the new mother asked, a warm smile crossing her features. She smiled back.

“You do not need to; it was a pleasure.” She left and closed the door before hurrying away. 

After she was out of the city, she turned to see the star, which hovered above the stable she had just been in. Now she knew what it meant, and if she didn’t leave asap, she would be destroyed.  
\-----  
The quiet in the city was a kind reprieve from the commotion of the day. The merchants had put away their things, and almost everyone was asleep. It was that time of night when the late sleepers as well as the early risers were in bed. All that could be heard was the flickering of the candles and the clanking of armor from guards. 

He had walked through the city all day and would probably stay a few more until he was bored. Tempting just wasn’t much fun, though he had probably gotten used to it.

A new normal, though the old one still escaped him.

He entered the palace through a servant’s door and began looking for the storage. Maybe he would have a couple things rot and mold over. Not enough to kill them, but just enough to mildly inconvenience them.

His plans were thwarted when he heard a terrible cough tremble through the castle.

He followed the sound up and to the sleeping quarters, where servants were bustling about and speaking in rushed voices. He stayed there for a moment to figure out what was happening.

The king’s son was sick.

Now, he didn’t really like the king. The whole ban on magic was bad enough but killing everyone who uses magic was a little much, even for him. Still, it would suck if the king’s son died, and there would be no doubt that the king’s misinformed mind would think it was magic.

One of the servants turned to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I am here to,” he looked around “Help, the king sent for a medic” he decided.

“The court physician is in there already.”

“The king sent for another, a new set of eyes, to see what is wrong.” He may have used a miracle to be let in, but he’d never admit it.

The room was well decorated, but very crowded with more servants in the room than outside of it. All of them surrounding the bed.

With another miracle, he was doing a lot of those today, the servants moved out of the way for him, giving a clear path to the bed for him. The servants then left, leaving just the prince, the king, his ward, and the court physician.

“Who are you?” the king asked, looking him over. He kept his eyes covered, so that they didn’t see his eyes.

“I heard rumors of the prince being sick and believe I may be able to help. I’m a medic from a village over, but I was visiting my brother here.” The physician seemed wary, but the others accepted it.

He approached the prince and began to see what was wrong. There were large blotches all over his body in a deep red, and his eyes were veined with bright red. He had deep circles under his eyes and blood dribbled out of his mouth.

Maybe it was magic. Still, he could fix it.

“Would you get water?” he asked the king, subtly convincing him to leave to get it. The others in the room wouldn’t mind him using magic if they figured it out.

And, really, it wasn’t ‘magic’, not technically.

Then, he got to work.

The medicine he used was pretty basic, he’d been traveling the world for millennia, and some culture’s medicine was better than others.

The prince was better in two days, but he stayed caring for the prince for about a week, ensuring the prince’s strength returned.

“What can I repay you?” the king asked as he was cleaning up and preparing to leave. He didn’t want to stay much longer, or Hell would notice.

“You gave me a place to stay and food to eat, what more could I have asked for?” he hadn’t needed food, or a place to sleep, but he couldn’t say that.

“You saved my son’s life, there is surly more I could give to you. I can even offer you a position as court physician if you wish.”

“May I have anything?”

“Yes, within reason, of course.”

He thought for a moment. He had heard of all dragons being killed ten years ago, but the king still kept one. Would it be wrong if he asked to see it? They had been wonderful creatures. 

“May I see the dragon?” he asked.

“The dragon? Really?” the detest in the king’s voice was obvious.

“Yes, my father was killed by a dragon, I wish to see if it was the one.” He lied.

“You will not kill it; it is to set an example.”

“I won’t, I just wish to receive closure.” 

“Then I will allow it.”

He was led down a dark tunnel, the only light being torches placed every ten steps. As they approached the cave, one of the guards opened the door, then after he entered, it was closed behind him, leaving him alone.

He went further, the sound of running water echoing off the cave’s walls. The path stopped abruptly when he entered a larger cavern, a cliff overlooking the rocky terrain. Above them the stars glinted, giving the trapped creature a glimpse of freedom that he couldn’t have.

Chains rattled as the sound of leathery wings overtook the cavern, and the beast landed on a perch.

“Serpent,” it said, looking him over, “Why have you come?”

“Was bored, really,” the dragon looked at him strangely, like he knew him. “Traveling the world, tempting, the usual.”

“Yet you healed the king’s boy.” The dragon gave him a knowing look, though what he knew was unclear.

“Well, I could always use that to my advantage.” he paused, “Why am I even talking about it to you, you can’t hold anything against me.”

“I cannot,” he agreed

Crowley sat on the edge of the cliff and stayed for a few minutes, listening to the dragon’s breathing. He felt a weird connection to it, like they knew each other.

“Have we met?” The dragon continued staring at him.

“I cannot say,” it said, “It is against her wishes.”

“So, I did know you, how?” He couldn’t remember meeting his dragon before, so it must have been when he was still an angel. He was also talking about Her.

“Yes, you were there when I was created, when most reptiles were created, really.”

“I don’t remember, that’s why I’m a snake, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is”

“Why did I fall? Why can’t I remember anything?”

“You fell because you asked questions, you were curious.” 

“That’s what I thought.” A beat passed, “How do you know?” 

“Prophecies, your fall was written in them.” The dragon looked sad.

“Was I important, then? Is that why I lost my memories and not the others?”

A door opening echoed against the cave walls, and a voice called out that it was time he left. The dragon flew away without answering his final questions.

“Was that informative?” asked the king when he reached the throne room.

“No, he was not the one who killed my father,” he said, picking up the story he had before.

“Well, celebrate, the monster who did it is dead.” Crowley nodded began to leave, “Wait, what is your name?” The king asked as he reached the door.

Without thinking, he said, “Raphael.”

He didn’t know the name, but many times he had stopped it from gracing his tongue. Now, though, after the dragon, he couldn’t help it. It felt right, in a painful way, so he avoided saying it. There was already a Raphael in heaven, and he didn’t need him to go after Crowley for identity theft.

As he approached the gates, he felt a small hand grab for his cloak. He turned to see the king’s ward standing behind him, expensive dress standing out in the dirty streets.

“Uh, sir,” she asked, feet shuffling around, “Who are you?”

“I already told the king, I’m-”

“I know that, but you are more. Aren’t you? I can feel it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t from the other village, are you” Crowley sighed.

“I am not, no.”

“You have magic, don’t worry. I won’t tell.” She said the last bit conspiratorially. 

“Oh, and why’s that?” 

She looked around and whispered, “I think I have it too.” A pause, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Her frightened eyes saddened Crowley. She shouldn’t have to hide these things.

“I won’t,” He whispered back, reveling his eyes, “We wizards need to stick together.”

She grinned and nodded. Crowley got more serious.

“You mustn’t tell anyone. If you do, even to other wizards, you will die.”

Sure, he could tell her to tell her father, that maybe her having magic would make him more open to it, but he didn’t want to be responsible for her death.

She nodded, then rushed back to the palace.

As he left, he did a small miracle.

She wouldn’t know of her magic, and it would stay hidden until she was ready.  
\-----  
“Aziraphale,” Crowley said as the angel approached her, “How are you, not stuck with ‘the great mortality’, I’d assume,”

“What do you mean? ‘The great mortality’?” 

“You know, the blue sickness? The pestilence?” 

“Oh? Oh, no, of course not!”

“It’s a joke. Why are you here in this lovely city, I thought you were staying in Rome” The city didn’t seem very lovely. The streets were dirty, it rained all the time, and the smell of death was everywhere.

“Well,”

“No, don’t tell me. You’re here to spread miracles of healing every which way.”

“No, actually, if I had wanted to do that, well, I’d be back in Rome.” He seemed anxious, like he was waiting for someone.

“So, why are you here? Pleasure?”

“What, no” the angel seemed offended, “I’ve heard rumors of an old friend roaming around and wish to see if they were true.”

“That friend wouldn’t happen to be me, would it? Because you’ve found me.”

“Oh, no, an angel. He and I were quite close.” He looked off longingly, a small sigh leaving him.

“So, pleasure, then,” she said, refusing to be upset. Aziraphale obviously loved this angel, he should at least help find them.

“What’s their name, maybe I can help.” Aziraphale looked to her in surprise.

“You would, oh, well, that’s so kind of you,” she turned to him in a flash, the dagger she held up her sleeve held threateningly against his throat.

“Do not call me kind.” She pulled the dagger back up her sleeve and began walking, forcing the angel to catch up. 

“Well, it is.” Crowley rolled her eyes, “His name is Raphael. I’ve heard that someone with that name has been healing people around this area.”

“Well, angel, we’re the only occult forces in the area,” she said, trying to turn the conversation. She knew using that name was a bad idea.

“Occult?” 

“Look out,” Crowley moved him out of the way as someone threw a bucket of something into the road.

“Fish guts?” the angel asked as they walked through the streets, disgust clear in his voice.

“Well, yeah. Not the best way of getting rid of it, though.”

“It isn’t”

The walk around the city was alright, they talked about a few things, but then Aziraphale went quiet and just wanted to get to the home ‘Raphael’ last healed someone at. 

Then Crowley left, leaving Aziraphale with the family.

He felt sad as he left Aziraphale, but they would meet again, eventually.  
\-----  
The little girl that lay coughing on her bed looked at him with knowing eyes, too wise for a normal child. She gave him a small smile as he put cold water on top of her head. Her mother had just what he needed to heal her, and the woman looked at him like he was a legend come to life.

Technically, he was, but that didn’t matter.

He had a meeting with Aziraphale at the globe theater that day, so he should be finishing up soon.

After she drank more fresh water, she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said, though her voice made it sound like she was thanking him for more than medicine.

“What for? You don’t have to thank me for helping you.” She gave him another of those smiles. Then she fell asleep, muttering unintelligibly under her breath.

“Thank you, for helping Agnes.”

“Oh, it was no problem”

“Yes, you should go, now. You are already going to be late for your meeting.” Crowley stopped and turned to the lady; surprise written over his face.

“What? How do you-”

“’A fallen angel of nether Heaven or Hell shall come to me in a time of need and shall be the one to heal me of my ailments. Be forewarned, second youngest, for your foe awaits your presence.’” The lady quoted, looking to the bed her daughter slept in. “She knew you were coming.”

Then, the lady pushed him out of the door, and he was set off to the globe theater where he was going to meet Aziraphale.  
\-----  
As she passed through Paris, she saw children playing on the dirty streets, giggling, and whispering between each other like squirrels. Some of them were running around and chasing each other, others were skipping around singing songs and nursery rhymes. 

The poor’s patience was wearing thin, she could tell. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. She wasn’t exited to see what would happen when everything combusted, so she had decided to help around a bit before taking a nice long vacation in England. Or Italy. Or somewhere completely different. The colonies just got their freedom, maybe she’d go there, plant a few temptations. They were aiming for a democracy, so tempting a couple politicians would make everything a little more interesting, wouldn’t it?

A whining came from a bit away and she found a little boy crying, clutching his arm which seemed crooked, crying profusely. His mother sat beside him and comforted him. There was no blood, but it seemed like a painful break.

“Do you need help?” her French was good, if she said so herself. She was partially responsible for languages, after all.

“Oh, no, it’s alright, we couldn’t pay you.”

“Payment is unnecessary, please, let me help.” She seemed hesitant, but she relented, letting Crowley look at it and fix it.

She may have used a miracle, but they never check up anyhow, so what would it matter?

When she was finished, the boy’s mother was practically sobbing in thanks. Before she could ask how to repay her, Crowley was gone down the street and had disappeared. The woman smiled down the road and she concluded that the woman that had helped her was an angel.

That was both right on the mark and completely wrong.  
\-----  
His dreams were always confusing. He slept often, since he enjoyed shutting his mind of for hours, days, months and sometimes even decades. He kept dreams to a minimum, though, since half the time it was fantasies that he would wish were real and would leave him up longing for things he couldn’t have. Other times they were memories that he could never quite grasp, the ones that nagged his mind while awake coming to the forefront but leaving as soon as he woke.

This was one of the memories.

He stood in the dark mass of space, no stars twinkling around him, just darkness. He saw a face he couldn’t quite remember floating in front of him, smiling as they taught him how to make the stars. Holding his hands and guiding him. Another angel was laughing and flicking stardust at the one guiding him, who then retaliated with their own. 

Another was there, smiling at the two, then pushing Crowley’s wing lightly. Then they began play fighting, and the angel stopped and pretended to be defeated, crying out in fake pain.

A calm voice then spoke to them, but he couldn’t understand.

The dream changed, and Crowley stood in front of a little angel, her smile bright as she asked him about the stars he made. She laughed at the stories he made up. They visited the stars, and she was fascinated with the light they gave off. 

They’d talk for ages about the stars.

It changed again, and he was with Aziraphale, in the garden. He was sitting with Aziraphale and cleaning the angel’s feathers while the other watched little insects crawl around.

“You made them, didn’t you?” Aziraphale asked, tilting his head back to look at Crowley.

“Some of them. Gabriel made the spiders.”

He woke up soon after and realized he had slept through one war and the start of another.  
\-----  
Becoming a spy was surprisingly easy. He did have a couple miracles to help, though, so it probably wouldn’t be easy for anyone else. He used one of the names he had made up around roman times. Anthony J. Crowley. He still hadn’t figured out what the J was for.

When he heard of an old English bookseller being duped, he assumed it was Aziraphale, and he was right. Shocker. He loved that angel, but he could be so naive at times.

After the whole ‘saving Aziraphale and his books’ thing, Crowley drove him to his bookshop and left. When he got back to his apartment, he went to sleep for a week. His feet were practically burnt off and needed healing. Badly. Giving them a break was a good idea.

Still, as he was going to sleep, that last dream lingered. He didn’t remember much of it, but the last part was crystal clear.

Of course Gabriel made spiders.  
\-----  
Mrs. Dowling wasn’t feeling well, so Warlock was going to spend the day with nanny. Unfortunately, it was nanny’s day off, so Mrs. Dowling had to call her.

“Yes?” Crowley picked up the phone, voice already going more feminine. 

“Yes, Nanny Ashtoreth, I hate to be a bother,” she began coughing, “But I’m not feeling well. Would you-”

“I’ll be right over.” She said before hanging up.

When Nanny got there, she entered as soon as the door opened and went to the kitchen.

“Nanny Ashtoreth, what are you-”

“Hush, dear, I’m making tea for you, please go back to bed, I’ll finish the tea and take him to a park. You should rest.”

Warlock enjoyed tormenting the ducks at the park very much, and Mrs. Dowling was feeling better by the time they were back at the estate.  
\-----  
Heaven felt wrong. He hadn’t been there since he lost his memories, so he couldn’t remember exacts, but the feeling of it had him nauseous. Though, it was possibly because of him being a demon.

He was tied to a chair and watched as they made a whole pyre of hellfire. Just for him. Should he feel grateful?

When Gabriel spoke, he felt strange, like the archangel was an old friend that had changed so much since kindergarten that he couldn’t recognize them. It happened a lot, too.

The same thing happened with Uriel, really, but she didn’t speak as much.

“Don’t talk to me about the ‘greater good’, sunshine, I’m the archangel fucking Gabriel.”

He felt like he should say something, that he should reveal something even he didn’t know. He didn’t, because he was supposed to be Aziraphale, and let him carry on.

As he left, he couldn’t help but feel like they’ve changed, but, how could they? He didn’t remember them, and he doubted they would have met him as an angel. He was a nobody in Hell, he’d have been a nobody in Heaven.  
\-----  
He and Aziraphale sat in the park as it grew dark. They were outside of Tadfield, where they watched as the sun set and the stars came into being. It had been three months since the failed apocalypse, and Aziraphale invited Crowley over there.

“Why did you bring me here, to look at the stars?”

“No” he shook his head and closed his eyes. 

“What is it?” he moved to angle himself toward Aziraphale.

“Do you love me?”

“What?” his heart stopped, well, if he had a heart it would’ve stopped. Had he been that obvious?

“Do you have feelings for me, of more than friendship.” Well, why deny it now. He was the one to bring it up.

“Yes, I do.” Aziraphale nodded, then looked up to the sky again, as if waiting for something to interrupt. Crowley wanted it to both interrupt and not desperately.

“Yes, well, I’ve been having the same feeling with you.”

“Oh?” There was a but. There had to be.

“I loved someone before.” There it was. “I lost him, and I’m afraid if I love you, I’ll lose you as well.” Crowley placed a hand on his knee.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily.” Aziraphale smiled sadly at him.

“I want to make this,” he gestured at the both of them, “Work, but I must warn you, I won’t go very fast. It’s been over 6000 years, and it sometimes still hurts.”

“Angel, I’ve loved you for 6000 years, and I can wait thousands more.”

“To us?” the angel asked, smiling.

“To us.” The demon said, leaving his hand on Aziraphale’s knee, and letting the angel lean into him slightly. That was enough.  
\-----  
Dating was a weird way of putting it. They didn’t date like Newt and Anathema, or like Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy. Newt and Anathema tended to fit into the ‘young love’ stereotype, while Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy fit more like an old married couple. Though it wasn’t always like that.

Crowley and Aziraphale?

Well, nothing really changed. They still spent time together, though their walks and dinners at the Ritz happened more frequently and lasted longer.

They didn’t kiss. Aziraphale didn’t want to do that yet. The first kiss of the universe was with him and Raphael, after all.

Crowley respected that wish. He didn’t want to rush his angel through the grieving process. If Aziraphale didn’t want to kiss him, he wouldn’t.

They got closer as well, so when, three years after the apocalypse, they moved into a little cottage, it wasn’t abrupt.  
\-----  
Four and a half years after the apocalypse, they sat in a little restaurant in a botanical garden. It wasn’t a fancy place, but the feel of it was nice.

Aziraphale ordered the angel cake with raspberry filling, Crowley just asked for wine.

The waiter put their orders down with a smile, and both of them paused and looked down.

Then they began laughing.

There, on top of Aziraphale’s cake, was a ring. On the bottom Crowley’s glass, another ring sat.

“So,” Aziraphale asked, taking out the ring and examining it, “I guess that’s a yes?”

The ring Crowley gave to Aziraphale was a silver snake that would wrap around his finger. In its mouth was a ruby that mimicked the apple. The ring he was given had two golden wings wrapped around his finger, not really touching. It resembled the way wings tended to wrap protectively around people when in danger.  
\-----  
The wedding was a simple affair. Anathema, Newt, Sergeant Shadwell, Madame Tracy, the them, and Warlock (who had gotten closer to Adam and the them recently).

It took place in a little clearing near Tadfield, where they set up a couple of seats. They couldn’t do it in a church, obviously.

Aziraphale’s suit was black and pristinely ironed, having no wrinkles. His hair was curly as usual because Crowley had been insistent on it. He stood at the head of the makeshift alter, where Adam was standing. He wasn’t a priest, but he was the ex-antichrist, which is probably better.

A good thing about the wedding having so few people was that they didn’t have to wait forever for all the bridesmaids and groomsmen to enter. Though, Crowley did make them wait.

The dress they wore was simple. The sleeves were loose and the bottom of them was lace. The neckline of the dress was square, and the skirts were layered, each one with more lace than the last. It was long, and brushed against the dirt floor, though it stayed clean.

Aziraphale gaped at them, mouth nearly to the floor.

Crowley’s hair was about shoulder length, but it was in a messy bun with baby’s breath flowers tucked in a crown like shape on their head.

The ceremony was not too long, but it felt like forever to Aziraphale. He had made a decision, the night before, and he would stick to it. Still, he was nervous about it.

Adam asked if anyone wanted to stop it, no one did, and they said their vows.

Adam smiled at the two of them and nodded at Aziraphale, before turning to Crowley.

“You may now kiss the groom.”

Crowley froze, and turned to him, eyes wide.

“What?” They asked. Aziraphale simply nodded and stepped closer to them. Crowley stayed still.

“That is, if you’d like.”

“I would.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley down and stood on his toes, and they kissed.

A tidal wave of emotion crashed into them, feelings from more than 6000 years, ones from before the apple, before humans, before the Fall.

Faces raced into Crowley’s mind. Memories of before. Of his family, of the stars, of Aziraphale. Everything.

Where once his earliest memory was the Fall, now he remembered being created, seeing his family for the first time. It was so much smaller then. So much fewer angels.

He remembered Aziraphale, how he taught him to build the stars, the long not quite days they spent in the garden.

He remembered why he fell.

And, possibly the most shocking, he remembered his name.

“Raphael” Aziraphale whispered, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Crowley, or Raphael, whispered.

Aziraphale kissed him again, harder, and Crowley melted into it. 

As they kissed again and again, they were completely oblivious to the surge of power that went through the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> The angel in the garden and the one hearing stories about the stars in the dream is Uriel. The ones at the beginning of the dream are Michael, Samael/Lucifer, and Gabriel.  
> The king's ward is Morgana from Merlin. The prince is Arthur.


End file.
